


Body Heat

by firefox49



Series: Rest & Recovery [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Jaskier | Dandelion, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sleepy Cuddles, Snow, Snowball Fight, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefox49/pseuds/firefox49
Summary: When winter arrives early, unannounced, and in full blast, Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri must seek shelter.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Rest & Recovery [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892266
Comments: 10
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

"Look! Geralt, look, it's snowing!"

To Jaskier's astonishment, thick white snowflakes were drifting lazily from the sky. They poked holes in the deep reds of the trees. It was barely November, and they were too far South for comfort. A glance up ahead told him that Geralt was thinking the same.

"Left up ahead," came Geralt's non-response. "Change of plans."

Unable to bear Ciri's dejected expression, Jaskier replied, "Well I'll be. It really is snowing." Ciri perked up, validated, and continued on, swishing her dress from side to side to catch the droplets.

He remembered being a talkative kid like her. Geralt should have seen how he ran his mouth back then, he though with amusement. He also remembered being ignored. The _not right nows_ and the _go bother someone else_ s and how they stung like sleet, miniature slaps in the face one after the other until his mouth was frozen shut. He didn't want Ciri to have to run away from two families.

Thinking the word _family_ surprised Jaskier a bit, but it wasn't untrue. Ever since he'd found Geralt with his child surprise in tow, looking worn out and dirty and much quieter than was healthy for someone her age, they'd moved as a unit, always with the plan of holing up in Kaer Morhen come winter. It must have been quite a relief for Geralt, having Ciri there to be the focus of Jaskier's chatter. _Blessed silence._ He winced at the thought. As endearing as he'd found the apology that was just too awkward to have been insincere, He found himself keeping his tongue in check more than he had before for fear of losing it all over again.

Enough of that, though. It was snowing and they had places to be. Right?

"Where are we going?" Jaskier called in Roach's direction.

"Kaer Morhen."

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "Today, where are we going. There aren't any towns for days in this direction."

"We'll just have to go until we hit one, then. Can't afford to lose any more time."

He sighed. Such was life on the road, much to his chagrin. Ciri didn't seem to mind half as much as he'd expected a princess to. She'd roll herself in mud before bathing so she could hide in the bushes and jump out to scare him. _You've got some nerve, girl,_ he'd said the first time. That was when he decided he liked her. She had spunk. And now she had a snowflake on her tongue, which she was extending so Jaskier could see. She tried to say something, but it came out garbled.

"You know what they say about talking with your mouth full," Jaskier chided. "Now they say you can tell your fortune by the pattern of the snowflake that lands on you. See here." He reached up as if to lift her chin but grabbed her stuck-out tongue instead. She squealed and batted him away.

"Don't harass the girl, Jaskier." Geralt hadn't even turned around.

"Oh, you're no fun." Jaskier crossed his arms. "I can tell you his fortune without even looking at the snowflakes," he murmured to Ciri in a voice he knew Geralt could hear. "He's got a lifetime of being a wet rag ahead of him." Ciri giggled and Geralt didn't react, but Jaskier had gotten his satisfaction anyway. That was when he noticed the snow picking up intensity. Before they could see for miles of flat road, but the distance was becoming dimmer and grayer, and it didn't look like it would be getting any better in the direction they were headed. Geralt was looking at the menacing horizon with tight lips and a furrowed brow. Jaskier thought better than to ask what the plan was now.

"What now?" Ciri asked immediately after he'd thought it. Jaskier just pursed his lips.

"I think there's an abandoned cabin up ahead. We'll set up there." Geralt's voice was nearly whipped away by the wind. Ciri's cloak was thrashing wildly about behind her and Jaskier had to hold on to his hat so it wouldn't fall off.

"How far?" another question. Jaskier hesitated at questions now, but Geralt didn't show any external signs of annoyance.

"Not too far." Geralt's definition of not too far, it turned out, was a lot more brutal than Jaskier had anticipated. They trudged through the rapidly compounding snow for at least another hour. Jaskier, chilled to the bone, had to hold on to Ciri and Roach's tail in order to not get separated, the blizzard was so thick. When Geralt called back, "we're here," Jaskier could barely make out a dark shape on the side of the path.

"Is- is Roach coming in, too?" Jaskier barked a laugh from between his chattering teeth.

"Can't have her freezing, Jask," Geralt reminded him before leading her through the gratuitously tall front door.

On the inside, the house looked like it hadn't been touched for months, maybe even years. Cobwebs dusted every surface and their wet boots left imprints in the dust on the floor. There was a hearth with some soggy wood inside, someone hadn't closed the flue, and a sizable collection of animal heads on the walls. Upon further examination, there was a small kitchen and a single bedroom attached to it. While Jaskier wrapped Ciri in the quilts he'd found on the bed, Geralt replaced the wet logs with dry ones and set about starting a fire. Roach stood awkwardly in the kitchen, sniffing at the cutlery. Jaskier tried to retrieve his coat from her saddlebags, but gave up when he realized his fingers were too numb to undo the clasp.

Fifteen minutes and a cabinet raid later, the three had eaten and were warm by the fire. Ciri in her quilt was curled up in front of it, and Geralt had tucked the ends under her to make sure they didn't catch fire. Without having been asked, Geralt had gotten Jaskier's coat out and handed it to him, too. His golden eyes were soft then. The snow had calmed down to a steady pace, and Geralt saw fit to let Roach in the barn outside. He came back and they sat in tired silence for a while.

"Can you tell me about Kaer Morhen again?" Ciri's voice was muffled. Geralt sighed but there was no malice behind it. For what must have been the dozenth time, he recounted a heavily abridged version of the time he'd spent there with his brothers. Jaskier noticed when he left things out, the more grisly details, and wondered what else he was omitting. Nonetheless, he let himself get lost in Geralt's voice, deep and warm. The sun was almost down now, and Ciri stood up, rubbing her eyes, and murmured a _thank you_ as she trudged toward the bed. Taking her cue, Jaskier retrieved his and Geralt's bedrolls and spread them out in front of the hearth. It was an unspoken rule that when there was only one bed, it was Ciri's, but Jaskier laughed to himself anyway.

"How spoiled she's gotten," he joked, but got an unusual silence from Geralt. It felt different than the other silences, and Jaskier looked over to see Geralt staring stiffly at the fire. He narrowed his eyes. Jaskier got the barest impression that his hands were shaking. Yes, they definitely were. And his lips were unnaturally pale. "Are you cold still?" he realized aloud. No answer from Geralt, just a brief moment of eye contact. Of course it would make sense. Slower heartbeat, larger body to heat up. Jaskier looked about for more blankets, but to no avail. Ciri was already asleep and he just didn't have the heart to disturb her. Geralt wouldn't want him to, either. So he returned to the fire, pushed the bedrolls together, mustered up some courage, and patted the floor beside him. "Come on, then."

* * *

Geralt was so cold. God, he was cold. He should have realized the snow was coming sooner. He felt bad for dragging Jaskier and Ciri through the snow but knew the effect on them wouldn't be as long lasting. He cursed himself for not being better prepared. He hated how it felt to not be able to keep his jaw from chattering or his fingers from shaking or his joints from creaking every time he tried to move. He was so god damned cold. So he barely comprehended what Jaskier meant when he patted the bedroll. Laying down would only mean more surface area for the heat to escape from. Jaskier had put his side closer to the fire, though. Wordlessly, he moved over toward him and laid on his back, arms crossed over his chest. Separating his legs where there had been some warmth before sent a shudder over his whole body. Damn it.

He felt Jaskier lift up his arms. Jaskier's head was on his chest and the rest of him was wrapped around Geralt like a snake. His knee-jerk reaction was to push him away until he realized that Jaskier was warm. _So_ warm. A different kind of heat than from the fire but one almost more comforting, because it came with the uniquely familiar scent of Jaskier. And so slowly, warily, he turned his head toward him and let his other arm rest on his back. Jaskier was so warm, it was magical. He couldn't even grunt annoyedly at him.

* * *

Melitele's tits, Geralt was cold. Jaskier felt like he was hugging a tree. "Are you sure witchers aren't cold blooded?" He murmured into Geralt's chest. Jaskier felt the tiniest rumble of a laugh against his cheek and it caught him off guard. Geralt turned his body and pulled him in closer with another shudder. The tips of his fingers felt like cold metal on his back. Despite the fact that he was kind of crushing his elbow, Jaskier only regretted not noticing sooner. He let his head fall into the crook of Geralt's shoulder and relaxed. He thought he felt Geralt relax, too. Jaskier was tired. Very tired.

* * *

By the time Jaskier had fallen asleep, Geralt still didn't know how to feel. Something he just couldn't define squeezed inside his chest every time he felt Jaskier's breath across his neck. Probably because he hadn't been this close to anyone but a whore in many years, he mused. He shook _that_ mental image from his head. Whores didn't feel this warm. Body heat aside, Jaskier's presence made him feel safe, despite how small he felt in his arms. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, warmer than he'd been since August.

* * *

"God, finally," Ciri said to herself when she woke up the next morning. The sight that awaited her was Jaskier and Geralt, limbs hopelessly tangled on one bedroll. She hadn't been the first to wake up since Geralt had had to fight that colony of drowners on his own. That day, he'd slept until noon, and Ciri and Jaskier passed the time seeing how many coins they could balance on his forehead. She noticed the lingering glances Jaskier gave him as he slept, but looked away before he could see her. Geralt had talked about Jaskier more than almost anything else before they'd reunited, and she planned on letting that play out organically. Knowing Geralt, though, she'd expected it to take much longer than this.

Taking care to keep from waking them up, she donned her boots and snuck outside to play in the snow.


	2. Mess with the bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something magical about the morning after it snows.

Peacefully and without haste, Jaskier felt himself wake up. He was in the warm, sleepy stupor of a night spent in a real bed. After feeling his spine ache, however, he knew he was not in a real bed. He opened his eyes and remembered.

Oh.

All his blood collected in his face as he found himself wrapped around Geralt in a hopeless tangle of limbs, arms and legs strewn about the floor. The fireplace was long dead. Geralt, somehow, was blissfully unaware of their current situation. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, and Jaskier knew better than to mention it, but Geralt did snore. Not loud, but enough to be noticed, and damn if it wasn't endearing. Fuck. He had to get out of here before Geralt awoke. Desperately, he tried to recall how they'd gotten there -- surely Geralt would hate him after this -- and had vague memories of Geralt shivering and feeling the stupid impulse to cuddle up beside him. He felt like an idiot. How much more blatant could he possibly be? Geralt was daft, but not that daft.

With as much grace as he could muster this early in the morning, he slowly began to extricate himself from the knot. To his horror, Geralt grunted in his sleep and pulled him back in. Shit. _Okay, okay, this doesn't mean anything,_ Jaskier tried to calm his racing thoughts, _I'm warm, he's cold, he's probably dreaming about a campfire or something._ Unsure of what to do next, he tried to lay still and breathe as normally as possible.

Aaaand Geralt opened his eyes. Great. He scrunched up his nose a bit in a way that was much cuter than it should have been, and looked at him all bleary-eyed. He made a noise at the back of his throat Jaskier couldn't translate. Then he regained sentience and seemed to take stock of the situation.

"Oh."

The silence that followed was decidedly awkward. Jaskier tried to diffuse it with a laugh that felt hollow and got to his feet. "You know, people have always said I-" he didn't make it past that as he walked toward the kitchen, because he realized Ciri was not in bed. She was also not in the kitchen. And she wasn't by the fireplace (thank gods), which ruled out all three rooms, which was not good at all. "Wh-where's Ciri?"

"Is she not in there?"

"No, no she's not in here, where could she have gone?" The room they'd let her take was messy, her things strewn about, which was not abnormal for her. Her bag was still there, so she didn't leave. Not of her own accord. He felt panic rise up like bile and clog his throat. "Ciri?" he called out, almost wanting to laugh at the futility.

Geralt was on his feet now, pupils small and hair wild. Jaskier thought he'd start breaking things, but after a moment, his jaw relaxed. Following his gaze, Jaskier saw what he was looking at.

Ciri, outside, playing in the snow in her cloak and boots.

Well, didn't Jaskier feel like a dipshit now. "Well." he managed to spit out. "I found her." And Geralt laughed.

Not the breathy chuckle he usually limited himself to, but a real laugh, one that started low and crept up and out the throat as it grew stronger. And Jaskier, feeling foolish and smitten, couldn't help but laugh with him.

When they breathed again and wiped the tears from their eyes, Jaskier felt himself able to relax. She hadn't seemed to notice them awake yet, which made Jaskier realize with a grimace she must have passed them while they were asleep. Wordlessly and with a smile on his face Jaskier could only describe as _fond,_ Geralt pulled on his boots and walked out to her. Jaskier wondered if he had avoided eye contact on purpose. He watched as Geralt somehow managed to sneak up on her, and shoved a handful of snow down her coat. She screamed loud enough for Jaskier to wince from behind the glass, but when she whipped around there was a smile on her face. It was the happiest he'd seen her.

Compelled as he always was to join a fracas, Jaskier wrapped himself in his coat and trudged out himself. The snow was deep and soaked through to his socks. He didn't care. Spotting him, Ciri started taunting Geralt, who hadn't yet. Getting as close as he dared, Jaskier scooped up the pearl white snow and lobbed it full-force at the back of Geralt's skull.

"Look!" Ciri shouted, pointing. Geralt turned his head. Oh no.

Thwack.

The snow not only hit Geralt square in the face, but stuck there, making his entire head a uniform white as Jaskier looked on in horror. Ciri was barely suppressing her laughter. _You bastard,_ he mouthed at her furiously, pointing a certain finger. Slowly, deliberately, Geralt reached up and wiped his face clean. Then he started to run.

Jaskier yelped and turned heel, but it was no use, and soon Geralt (in a noticeably gentle manner) had him pinned to the ground. And suddenly, the world became very, very slow. Geralt's eyes, shining and golden in the faint shrapnel of morning light. How his hair seemed to glow as it was illuminated from behind. What almost looked like-- could it be-- a smile? A real, genuine smile? It was a very good look on him, to be sure. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his eyebrows a little less intimidating. He almost forgot why they were there.

With a playful vengeance, he dunked Jaskier's head in the snow, deaf to Jaskier's indignant cries. God, the ground was cold. Geralt got off of him while Ciri cried laughing in the background, and Jaskier peeled himself up out of the snow.

"Mess with the bull," Geralt shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever, you brute," Jaskier said, but there was no bite. He couldn't help but laugh, too. Geralt raised his head to meet the rising sun. Its rays had just breached the treetops, bouncing off the snow and glaring into their eyes.

"You need food, little thing." Geralt ruffled Ciri's hair. "Get on inside." Still smiling, she did as she was told, sloshing through the mess they'd made of the snow. Then they were alone out there. Logically, following Ciri inside would have made sense, but Jaskier found himself unable to move. He was sure he must look a sight, just out of bed and immediately plunked in the snow. As much of a mess as he felt. He could feel the cold stinging his cheeks and his nose and imagined how red they must be already. Always a mess. And yet he couldn't break eye contact. "You look cold," Geralt commented.

"Not exactly dressed for the weather." Jaskier gestured at his thin shoes.

"I- I'll start the fire back up." And tentatively, Geralt put an arm around Jaskier's shoulders. For warmth, he assured himself. And led him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mess with the bull, get the horns," is the phrase Geralt was referencing, for anyone who didn't know.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm aware that it doesn't make any sense to put Roach inside the house and that she'd probably shit everywhere, but I didn't want her to be cold and wasn't sure what else to do with her. Sorry.  
> Hope you enjoyed the rest, though!


End file.
